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User blog:Superseaturtle/The Homeless (A Story)
Hey y'all! This is blog post is really important to me, because it deals with something God has really pressed on my heart. Around Thanksgiving of last year, I had an experience with a homeless person that changed my life forever. I wrote a story about it, and over the craziest three days of my life, it wound up at our local city newspaper. I want to share this story with y'all just as a reminder: Keep your eyes open, always. If y'all want me to post more blogs like this, I'd be more than willing. God has given me the gift of being a writer, and I want to use it to serve him however and wherever I can. :) Thanks! The Homeless It is 1:45 on a Sunday afternoon. It is the eighteenth of November. Thanksgiving is near. My mom and I are leaving our local Ruby Tuesday. We are full, and ready to go home. My dad and my sister have my twin brothers. They are nowhere in sight. Then I see her. She is standing against a billboard pole. Her brown hair is pulled up on the back of her head and she is wearing a white University of Alabama long sleeve shirt. The woman holds a cardboard sign. She's homeless. The realization is oddly startling. I've seen homeless people before. They wait at intersections, street corners, many places. There’s not as many in ______ as there is in some places, but they’re still there. I look to my mom. She is unlocking the doors to the van. "I think that woman is homeless," I say softly. She simply nods in reply, and puts the bags in the car. "You might want to go ahead and get in," she says. I follow her advice, and get in the van. From the back window, I watch. I watch that woman in the white shirt. A scene from a Matthew West music video flashes through my mind. A homeless widow with gray hair. A sign. My own little world. A few lines from a song I had heard earlier on the radio spring into my head. "Break my heart for what breaks Yours. Everything I am for the Kingdom's cause." I sit there, thinking. My dad and my sister reappear. They begin to put my brothers into their car seats. Still I watch the woman. Something inside me is shifting. I watch the cars pass by her. Maybe this one will stop, I think. It doesn’t. One, two, three. They all pass by. In my head, I’m screaming," STOP! Can’t you see?" They can’t. They don’t. The car's engines start. The woman slumps against the pole, still holding her sign. We go to pull out of the restaurant's driveway. A gray haired woman approaches the pole. The older woman places her hand on the shoulder of the younger girl. After a moment, the older woman leaves. We drive right by that young woman. Her hands are lost in the sleeves of her shirt. She slumps over her sign, holding her head in one hand. She’s crying. I can’t read the sign, save for one word. Food. It is cardboard, and painted red. We pass by. We don’t stop. We turn to get onto the main road. I look at my sister, who is in the back with me. "She was homeless," I say numbly. "I wish we would’ve stopped. I hate to just leave her there," my sister replies. "It breaks my heart," I say, my voice cracking slightly. My eyes fill with tears. It breaks my heart. I have never felt this way about a homeless person before. I turn and look out my window, tears rolling down my face. I wipe them off with the back of my hand. My parents are in a conversation up front. My brothers are watching Blue’s Clues. I am crying. I turn and look out the back window of the car as we drive away. The woman is still there. The woman is still crying. What are you going to do about it?We drive off, leaving the woman behind.. I turn numbly and look out the window. I pray. Oh, God, I pray. I pray for that woman. I pray for all those people I have passed by throughout my life. I pray and I cry silently. What are you going to do about it? Suddenly, a white car pulls up beside us. I watch the car, drawn by some strange impulse. I look in the passenger's side window. There's a woman. An elderly woman. She is in her Sunday clothes, and her gray hair hangs just past her shoulders. She moves her mouth and puts her hands together. At first, I think she’s listening to the radio. But, suddenly, it hits me. She’s praying. I have seen her before. She's the woman who comforted the homeless girl. And she’s praying. Her hands are together, and the next moment apart as she pours out her heart to God. Suddenly, my heart jumps. I turn to God and begin to cry out to Him, along with the woman in the car next to me. Where two or more are gathered, there He is also.The woman prays. I pray. We’ve never met each other, and likely never will. Two hearts, two strangers. Both cry out to God in Heaven to help a woman. A woman we've never met. What are you going to do about it, _______?That question resonates in my heart and in my mind. Am I going to do something? Will this be one of those things that just 'happen', and life goes on? No. I refuse. I cry out to God again. What do I do, Lord? Change. Change. Fix this. You know I don’t want it to be this way. So act. How, Lord? I'm only fourteen years old! ''And?''The tears are no longer rolling. My heart is racing. My mind is reeling. I turn around and tell my sister about the praying woman. Still, I think. ''What can I do?''I can write. I can write this down. I can spread awareness. I can start a charity, even. God willing, I can ''change! ''It doesn’t have to be this way! What about you? What are you going to do? Will you help me? Will you help all the others in our town who are out to change the world? Is God calling you? Are you going to stand by, or stand up? Is it your time to step up? You don't stand alone. God showed me that. So change! I can't do this alone. You can't do this alone. God with us, and God through us, we can do it. ---- Category:Blog posts